


A Display of Fine Art

by Corrosive_Moon



Series: I Think, Therefore I Am [3]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Detroit Become Human, Anal Sex, Android and huMAN SEX, Androids, Artist!Crowley, Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale is "just enough of a bastard to be worth knowing" (Good Omens), Bottom Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), CyberLife (Detroit: Become Human), Detroit: Become Human - Freeform, Disability, Disabled Character, Frottage, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), M/M, Physical Disability, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Pseudo-Exhibitionism, Top Aziraphale (Good Omens), Window Sex, android!Aziraphale, biblical knowing (of course), detroit: become human au, don't worry it's a one-way window, jk, knowing, no knowledge of Detroit: Become Human needed to understand, rampant misuse of android abilities, slight misuse of android abilities, would you smooth an android?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-30
Updated: 2020-07-30
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:40:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25599727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Corrosive_Moon/pseuds/Corrosive_Moon
Summary: “Are you telling me that you have videos of us having sex stashed in your porn folder?”Aziraphale rolls his eyes. “It’s not a pornography folder, Crowley.  It’s a folder for memories.  Precious memories.”“That includes videos of us having sex.”----------Set after “A Touch of Deviance.”  A bit of bickering, a bit of cuteness, 100% shameless android and human smut.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: I Think, Therefore I Am [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1521767
Comments: 20
Kudos: 182
Collections: Aziraphale/Crowley Smut Library, Ixnael’s Recommendations, Just Enough Of A Bastard to be Worth Knowing Biblically, Top Aziraphale Recs





	A Display of Fine Art

“There was a book by the nightstand, dear,” Aziraphale says from behind him. “Milton's _Paradise Lost_.”

Crowley rolls his eyes. “Aziraphale, I told you before: art isn't always about copying.”

“You're quite accurately painting my curves for someone who isn't interested in copying.”

Crowley twists around to glare at Aziraphale properly. The android smiles. 

“I commit many parts of your anatomy to my memory as well,” Aziraphale continues. 

“Yeah?”

“Oh, yes. I store my favorites in a folder.”

“You have a folder about me?”

“Of course I do. It’s where I store all my important memories of you.”

“Memories? Of me?” Crowley grins, looking quite pleased. He reaches for a cup, double-checks that it’s absolutely not paint water[1], and takes a sip.

“Yes, like the first time we met, the first time we went for a drive in the Bentley—oh, you were positively radiant that day, my dear, even though I was terrified—the first time we kissed, the first time we made love—“

Crowley spits out his coffee all over the half-finished painting. 

“Oh dear, look what you’ve done, Crowley. The art…” Aziraphale sighs. He turns to find a cloth to wipe up the mess.

“Forget the damn art, Aziraphale. Are you telling me that you have videos of us having sex stashed in your porn folder?”

Aziraphale rolls his eyes as he blots the coffee off the painting as best he can. “It’s not a _pornography folder_ , Crowley. It’s a folder for memories. Precious memories.”

“That includes videos of us having sex.”

“Making love,” Aziraphale corrects as he crouches down to address the coffee on the floor.

Crowley throws his hands up in the air in exasperation. “You can name it whatever you want, Aziraphale, but it doesn’t change a thing.”

“I don’t see why it’s so surprising. I’m sure you keep memories of me in your own… erm, pornography folder. The only difference is that my memories are captured perfectly.” Aziraphale tosses the soaked cloths in a nearby bin.

Crowley honestly can’t argue with that. The artist sets his elbow on his armrest, drops his chin into his open palm, and draws his eyes to Aziraphale’s face. “Ssssoooo do you put… anything else there?”

“In your folder?”

“’Course. I mean, it can’t all just be memories of me, right? Any fantasies you have stashed away in there?”

Aziraphale has a strong urge to lie but he knows it would be useless anyway. “Yes.”

Crowley wheels his chair over to stop just in front of Aziraphale’s feet. “Like what?”

“Oh, it’s nothing much, really.”

Crowley doesn’t move. He simply waits for Aziraphale to give in and elaborate, which the android eventually does with a sigh.

“Mostly it’s a running list of scenarios—“

“Fantasies,” Crowley mutters.

“— _Scenarios_ I’ve constructed,” Aziraphale continues resolutely, “based on our previous interactions and things I’ve learned from you.” To make his point, Aziraphale leans down and brushes his fingertips against the shell of the artist’s ear and the Crowley shivers not unpleasantly.

“Two nights ago I found that you enjoy it immensely when I put my mouth here,” the android says. “So I file it away for next time.”

Aziraphale can see the thrum of Crowley’s pulse at his jugular, the amber of his eyes giving way to dark pupils, the red tinting his sharp cheekbones. Aziraphale knows if he were to glance downward, he would also see the press of the artist’s hardening erection against his clothes. He doesn’t though. Not yet. Aziraphale’s too busy cataloguing Crowley’s expressions. He leans forward, planting his free hand on the wheelchair arm. 

“And when touch here, very lightly…” Aziraphale murmurs as he trails his other hand up Crowley’s neck, ever so delicately, “you lift your chin up—yes, just like that.”

The android rakes his eyes over the beautiful, unblemished skin of Crowley’s bared throat. 

“I’d love to put you on display, just like your art,” Aziraphale murmurs. “You’re so very lovely, Crowley.”

“When…” Crowley grounds out, “when the hell did you learn to be so seductive?”

Aziraphale declines to answer. In truth, he doesn’t really know. However, he likes to think it was born beyond the borders of his rational thought, inside the core of his deviancy where his profound love for this wonderful man lives. 

The android senses Crowley is waiting, so he smiles and closes the distance between their lips. Crowley whines softly and stretches as far as he can, fingers clutching at the android’s lapels and tugging him closer. Aziraphale chuckles low in his throat and deepens the kiss. His hands graze down the artist’s sides to rest at his slim waist.

“My dear, there’s no need to strain yourself.” Aziraphale whispers as he follows the taught muscles of Crowley’s hips to his pert ass and squeezes. 

“’Ziraphale…!” Crowley groans. 

“I’ve got you.” Aziraphale digs his fingers into the artist’s flesh and hauls him up. He presses their pelvises flush together and Crowley wraps his arms around his neck. 

“Aziraphale, please…” Crowley trembles, flexing his arms in search of more friction. 

“Certainly, my dear.” Aziraphale presses a kiss into the corner of his mouth and sets the artist on surface of the table.[2] The android looms over him, gently—always so gently—parting Crowley’s legs at a comfortable angle as he rocks against Crowley’s straining cock. The artist lets out a soft, needy whine and Aziraphale slides his palm down his thin body and presses between Crowley’s legs. Crowley keens and pulls at the android’s clothes.

“Off,” the artist mumbles. “Want to feel you.”

“Of course.”

Aziraphale keeps his hand between Crowley’s legs as he expertly undoes his waist coat and button-up shirt with his free hand. He presses down with the exact amount of pressure needed to make Crowley drop his head back. 

“You’re killin’ me, Aziraphale…” he huffs.

“Nonsense…” the android murmurs, noting each of his delicious shivers. Aziraphale deliberately slows down a smidgen on the last few buttons and then he draws his hands back to divest himself of his clothes, taking the time to drape them over the back of Crowley’s wheelchair.

Crowley was about to protest this, but he’s quickly placated when Aziraphale begins working the artist’s clothing off and at last they’re skin to skin. Aziraphale’s synthetic skin is just slightly cooler than Crowley’s, more pliant and soft. Crowley digs greedy fingers into the ample flesh at Aziraphale’s lower back, urging him closer, gasping as their cocks brush. 

Aziraphale has always had a cock (it’s a standard issue for the A2 series) that is hooked to his thirium circulatory system, but it’s mostly there for appearance purposes. It took some modifications to an open-source software and a couple test runs [3], but eventually Aziraphale became able to obtain an erection at will. 

The android curls his fingers around their cocks, reveling in the soft, heated sound Crowley makes. Aziraphale moves his hand leisurely, leaning in to worship the artist’s beautiful body with his mouth, kissing and sucking the skin. A thrill runs through Aziraphale when he feels how each mark he places runs right to the artist’s cock. 

“More!” Crowley gasps. “More, Aziraphale, please!”

Aziraphale obliges. He props up Crowley’s leg onto the desk to allow better access between his buttocks. Crowley reaches an arm back to balance himself better and uses his other hand to draw his leg higher. 

There’s lube in the one of the drawers under the table. Aziraphale doesn’t take his eyes off Crowley as he pulls open the drawer and retrieves the bottle. A quick second later he’s circling Crowley’s entrance with slick fingers, coaxing the muscle to relax, and slowly sliding his index finger inside.

“ _More_ ,” the artist moans. 

“All in due time, Crowley.” Aziraphale replies, because he always ensures Crowley is properly prepared. Aziraphale was built to be warrior, while Crowley is… Crowley would never use the term “delicate,” but humans are so _breakable_ in comparison to androids. Aziraphale could easily shatter a bone if he got careless. The android could never forgive himself if he accidentally harmed Crowley. 

So Aziraphale takes his time. He soothes Crowley’s impatience by slowly stroking the artist’s erection, swiping his thumb over the slit and dragging pre-cum over the head. Aziraphale relishes the messiness of sex. It’s so incontestably, intimately human. And Crowley is sharing this with him and no one else.

The android pours more lubricant onto his hand and presses a second finger inside, sliding back and forth over the gland there to make Crowley arch his back. Sweat breaks out on Crowley’s skin as Aziraphale slowly pumps his fingers in and out of him. Once the android is certain, he easies in a third finger.

“C’mon, Aziraphale, I’m ready,” Crowley whines. “Fuck me. Wreck me! Spear me on your thick cock!”

Aziraphale lifts his head and gives him a dry look. “Really, dear?”

“Thought I’d give it a sh~ _ot!_ ” Crowley’s voice jumps as octave as Aziraphale curls his fingers. “Oh, you _bastard_.”

The android chuckles and grants him a quick kiss as a consolation prize.

“Darling,” Aziraphale breathes as he draws back. “May I act out a scenario?”

“You mean your fantasies?” Crowley corrects with a raised brow.

The android doesn’t dignify that with a formal answer, instead inclining his head towards the floor-to-ceiling windows. The windows, of course, are on a default setting of being one-way; no one from the outside of the house can see what is happening inside.

Crowley’s eyes flash deviously. “That’s—“

“Crowley,” Aziraphale warns, withdrawing his hands and applying a generous amount of lube over his cock.

The artist grins widely, laughter bubbling up in his voice. “That’s a kink. You know that’s a kink, right? You kinky android, you.”

Aziraphale wipes the excess lube on his hands on a nearby paper towel. (Nothing would kill the mood more than accidentally dropping Crowley because his hands were slipperly.) Then he carefully maneuvers Crowley around so that the artist’s back is pressed against his front. 

“Hold onto me,” Aziraphale murmurs, nipping at Crowley’s ear.

Crowley obeys eagerly, bringing his hands up and over to link his fingers behind Aziraphale’s neck. Aziraphale grips the artist’s thighs, raises him up, and bears him towards the windows. (The android has also been informed that his casual displays of strength are, in Crowley’s words, “really fucking hot.”) Once they’re a step away from the glass, Crowley releases his hold and presses his palms flat against the window. 

“Now, let’s pretend the windows aren’t one-way,” Aziraphale insinuates. “Let’s imagine that anyone can come by and see us like this.”

“I hope it’s not the neighbors because it’ll be really awkward talking to the Youngs after they’ve seen my dick,” Crowley mutters.

“Crowley, you’re ruining the scenario.”

“ _Scene_ , Aziraphale. People just say ‘scene.’”

“Very well. Scene. Anyone can walk by and see this.” He rolls his hips forward, deliberately sliding the head of his cock passed Crowley’s entrance. “See how ready you are for me.”

Crowley shudders. 

Aziraphale keeps feeding the fantasy. “Like a work of art. You deserve to be seen for how beautiful you are. Exhibited, admired, _coveted_ …”

It’s easy to lift Crowley up; he weighs almost nothing to Aziraphale. Easy to align the head of his cock to Crowley’s stretched hole and sink Crowley down until they are joined.

Aziraphale has never interfaced with another android before, not in the intimate way he’s seen android couples do with their stark-white hands clasped together. But he feels he’s found a proper substitution as he presses deep into Crowley, as he feels the hot vice of the human body give way to make space for him. This close, he can read every shuddering breath, see every desperate fidget, feel every fluttering pulse… He loves how he can affect Crowley like this. Aziraphale knows exactly where and how hard he has to thrust to send Crowley hurtling into orgasm. (45 degree angle, and about 30.8% of his full thrusting capacity, repeat until orgasm achieved.)

Aziraphale deliberately refrains from doing this yet, eager to savor the artist, letting his cock drag against Crowley’s prostate to make him squirm deliciously. 

Crowley lets out a low whine. Held like this, facing away, unable to dictate the pace, Crowley has little else to do but accept what Aziraphale will give him. His fingers scrabble against the clear glass until a particularly well-aimed thrust has Crowley’s elbows buckling and his upper body ends up mashed against the window. His cock, Aziraphale knows, must also be against the glass, trailing lewd pre-cum smears on the pristine surface. 

“Aziraphale, please…” Crowley begs, twisting his head around to look over his shoulder. “Please, please, fuck me!”

Oh, that is definitely getting filed away in the “Crowley is So Cute When He Begs,” folder. Aziraphale makes sure he has a solid grip at the back of the artist’s thighs and fucks him with deep, long thrusts. 

Crowley wails so loudly Aziraphale swears the windows rattle. The artist’s hand drops out of sight, inching towards his waist.

“Keep your hands up, there’s a dear,” Aziraphale whispers into Crowley’s ear. “There’s no need for you to do anything. I’ll take care of you.”

“Yesss…” Crowley hisses out, breath fogging up the glass beneath his cheek. He obediently keeps both hands by his head. “Yes, yes, yes…!”

Azirphale picks up the pace, angling his hips just right to fuck into Crowley’s prostate. Crowley is beyond speech now, strings of nonsensical, erotic noises falling freely from his lips. Aziraphale traces the tensing muscles of his back, notes the rising pitch of his cries, and knows that his darling is close. 

The android can’t obtain an orgasm, but he feels a semblance of _something_ heated and satisfied that blooms sweetly in his veins as Crowley clenches tight around him and comes. Aziraphale holds him through it, sucking marks into the nape of his neck until Crowley’s trembling subsides. He gently eases himself out and wills his erection down before pulling them away from the window. The android notes, with no small amount of pleasure, at the strings of cum painting the window and Crowley’s abdomen. Crowley shifts backwards, dropping his head back onto Aziraphale’s shoulder and panting. The android presses a kiss to his cheek.

“You were wonderful, Crowley,” he murmurs. 

Crowley makes a content noise in his throat. Aziraphale carefully lays him face-up on the table. He folds up a few of their clothes into neat makeshift pillows to support Crowley’s head and hips. 

Aziraphale hums. “I suppose I should clean up the window.”

“Oh, just leave the stain, it adds character,” the artist says, propping himself up on his elbows.

“We are certainly _not_ leaving your ejaculate on our window. Think of the neighbors.”

“...Easy for you to say,” Crowley mutters. “Bet you have it all recorded in your porn stash.”

“Filed and labeled in the ‘Favorite Ways to Fuck Crowley’ folder,” Aziraphale informs him cheerfully.

Crowley tips his head back and lets out a startled laugh. He looks lovely, sprawled out on his table with his pink cheeks and mussed hair and exposed throat littered with hickies and his own spend drying on his belly.

Aziraphale tucks that image away in his “Favorite Not Safe for the Workplace Crowley Photos <3” folder.

\---~*~---

[1] Crowley accidentally drinking his paint water may, or may not, be something of a frequent occurrence.

[2] There is a particular paint stain on this table Aziraphale likes that may, or may not, have been caused by a similar circumstance. Still, Aziraphale endeavors not to leave too much evidence of his and Crowley’s love-makings for the sake of any houseguests.*

*Children, in particular.

[3] Including a hilarious and unfortunate malfunction that caused Aziraphale’s penis to constantly cycle from inflating and deflating with thirium for about an hour until the android sorted it out. During which Crowley couldn’t look at Aziraphale without laughing. The only reason why Crowley didn’t tease Aziraphale it is because the android threatened to abandon the entire prospect entirely. 

\---~*~---

**Author's Note:**

> I know it looks like I’ve been extremely prolific but the truth is I’ve been holding onto the second chapter of “A Feeling Like Home” and this PWP for almost a year. Pretty much since I finished writing “A Touch of Deviance.” I just never got around to polishing them.
> 
> For those who aren’t familiar with the Detroit: Become Human game, androids are capable of interfacing with each other by deactivating their skin and holding hands. This appears to be an intimate act that allows the androids to not only share their memories, but experience each other’s memories as if they were their own.
> 
> I was… extremely tempted to write this like I wrote Aziraphale vs. Hastur and Ligur fight scene in Chapter 3 in A Touch of Deviance, but I felt it would be too comical. Y’know… reading steamy smut and then suddenly you have: 
> 
> >Prostate Found.  
> >>Probability of orgasm: 100%.
> 
> Kinda breaks the sexiness. XD Sooo… I may have 1 more work left on this series. Just a single-chapter thing, no porn. In the meantime...
> 
> \--Read on, my friends. Read on.
> 
> |Corrosive Moon|


End file.
